


Perfect Strangers by Madison

by sgamadison



Series: Perfect Strangers [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A misconception by Carson has John and Rodney playing a role to help their friend and colleague regain his balance after a traumatic visit to an alternative universe.  But just when things seem back to normal, the other universe continues to exert its influence...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Strangers by Madison

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older series that I am just getting around to importing. All mistakes are mine. Originally, the first in the series was intended as a bit of crackfic dedicated to recognizing the 'fake' Sheppard because his hair was flat, but somehow it grew into a series, with each story a bit more serious than the previous one.

Rodney McKay was freezing. So then why did he have nothing more than a thin sheet pulled up over him? Jesus. What was wrong with the heat in this room? And the mattress was as hard as a rock. Felt worse than one of Carson's exam tables. Unable to bear it any longer, he pushed down the sheet with the idea of getting up out of bed and turning up the heat. Only when he pulled the thin layer of fabric from his face did he realize he was not in his quarters but in a sterile, darkened room lying on a gurney of sorts. _What the hell_?

He swung his legs off the stretcher and realized he was completely naked. Wait a minute—not completely. Dangling from the big toe of his right foot was a thin piece of wire to which a tag was attached; much like those temporary identification cards provided by airports to help people track their luggage...or like those attached to dead people. _Fuck_. He was in the morgue. _Oh, this was so not good_. Quickly he glanced around to see if he had company, but he was the only occupant of the small room. He had absolutely no memory of how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was a briefing for a mission. Easing his feet onto the chilly floor, he hopped off the gurney and felt a dull stabbing pain in his chest as he did so. Pushing away the bunched up sheet, he found a very tender spot in the center of his breastbone. _Ow. That hurt like a sonuvabitch_. He also appeared to have several sticky places on his chest, which he belatedly realized they were the remains of EKG leads. Frowning, he poked at his stomach. Was he gaining weight? He didn't see how he could be with all the running around he was doing these days. Wincing slightly, he wrapped the sheet around him as best as he could toga-style and shuffled over to the door. For a moment, he had a brief sense of panic at the thought that the door might be locked but then common sense prevailed. _Who would want to lock a corpse in_?

He pulled the door open violently and staggered out into the warmer corridor. Not a soul was in sight; the lights of Atlantis were dimmed in their 'evening' mode. The tag on his foot clattered against the tile floor as he stalked his way down the hall to the infirmary. Heads were _going_ to roll. What was Carson thinking, declaring him dead without making sure he _was_ dead? Unless...for a split second it occurred to him this might be some sick twisted joke of John's—that he passed out for some reason, probably a hypoglycemic episode, and that John put Carson up to this. He stopped, braced one hand against the wall and lifted his foot to attempt to remove the tag, but he could see he was going to need both hands to untwist the wire. He moved on, suddenly certain as he did so that this was no joke taken too far. Even if John had dreamed up the plan (and Rodney _could_ imagine him at least contemplating it), he would never actually implement it. Besides, Carson would never go along with it.

So instead, someone had made a dreadful mistake and by god, he was never going to let that person live this down. He could only hope his clothes were still somewhere in the infirmary. The medical facility was empty. Not the usual state of affairs in the Pegasus galaxy; there was almost always someone hospitalized for some reason or another whenever Rodney had been there. Of course, he had never come storming in during what appeared to be the middle of the night. Obviously all the minor cases had been discharged for the day and there didn't seem to be any critical care patients in the infirmary. He slammed things around briefly, pulling open drawers and closets in a vain attempt to locate his clothing. Where the hell was his stuff? Where the hell was the night staff, for that matter?

Finally, while passing a giant laundry basket on wheels, he saw his clothes lying on top. Torn between the desperation of continuing down the hall clad in nothing but the sheet verses pulling his clothing out of a bin of obviously icky dirty laundry, he hesitated. He lifted the shreds of his shirt up with two fingers and then dropped it back into the heap. He recognized the ventilation pattern from the time that the team had used the defibrillator on John. There wasn't enough shirt left to put back on now. No way. He would just have to go as is. But before he did...he sat on the nearest chair and removed the annoying tag, rubbing at where it cut into the tender skin of his toe. He looked up to see a young nurse (he was damned if he could remember her name) staring at him open-mouthed in shock.

"Hey!" He said sharply, sitting up and pulling the sheet as well as tattered remains of his dignity around him. He was about to continue with some snide comment about how _some_ people should check to make sure other people were _really_ dead before putting them in the fridge but the young woman began shrieking loudly and ran from the room. Startled by her reaction and then realizing she must have thought she'd seen a ghost, he started to go after her when he suddenly spied a radio headset lying on a table beside the laundry cart. It might even be _his_ headset. He slipped it on over his ear.

"Major Sheppard?" He said in his frostiest voice. "Would you like to come down to the morgue and please explain how I happened to arrive here wearing nothing but a toe tag?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a small pang. Shit, if Carson thought he was dead, then _John_ thought he was dead too. Their current relationship might be fairly new, but he knew John really cared about him.

"Um, John?" Rodney hurried to add some warmth to his voice, something that he would not have normally done over a com channel. "I'm okay, seriously, but really confused. I don't remember what happened. Are you out there?"

" _Dr. McKay_?" John's voice was incredulous. Huh. John never called him by his academic title. He hadn't done that since shortly after they'd met in Antarctica.

"Well, that _is_ what the toe tag says." Rodney tried to inject a little levity into the picture. "Listen, what I could use right now is an explanation and some clothes. Warm clothes. Coffee would be nice too, but I know that's just a pipe dream. I'm freezing my ass off down here. Hurry it up, okay?"

There was a stunned silence and then John's voice came over the headset. "O-kaaaay." He drew out the second syllable in an odd, disbelieving sort of way. Rodney cut contact with him abruptly, snorting as he did so. Served him right if he had thought Rodney was dead. He should have checked. Twice. If the roles had been reversed, Rodney would not have so easily accepted John's death, that's for sure.

There was the sudden sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and then the nurse from before and a doctor Rodney did not recognize came skidding into the room. The nurse clutched at the doctor's arm and pointed while the doctor merely gaped at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Rodney began testily. "Where's Carson? Who screwed up and mistakenly declared me dead? What happened, did you misread the tea leaves? Or did you simply sleep through the lecture in med school on how to properly diagnose 'dead'?"

"It certainly _sounds_ like Dr. McKay..." the doctor said warily, almost as though to himself. He was a young man, most likely still wet behind the ears Rodney thought disdainfully. Didn't look old enough to be a doctor and just standing there goggling at him from behind his glasses. "Um, Dr. McKay," the doctor began again. "You don't remember me? I'm Dr. Nash. I'm in charge here."

"Oh-ho, yeah _right_." Rodney was really starting to get annoyed now. He stood up, folding the sheet around his backside with a huff. "Very funny. You tell Carson to get his ass down here and face the music right now. You've all had your little fun, at my expense I might add, and enough is enough. I want to see Carson Beckett front and center. _Now_."

Marines had been known to quake when Rodney used that tone of voice and the young doctor was no different. "Dr. McKay." He looked miserable. "Dr. Beckett is dead."

Rodney felt his mouth drop open and he sat back down heavily into the chair. " _What_?" His voice was anguished. "I don't understand...what happened?" He snapped his head up suddenly. "Wait a minute—are you sure? Because someone made a mistake here with _me_ today, so if you aren't really sure..."

"Dr. Beckett died months ago, sir. On Hoff." The little nurse was edging out from behind the doctor, frowning with concern at him. "Unless..." she looked up at the doctor cautiously. "You don't think he means..." The doctor stopped all further speculation by closing his hand over hers where she still had hold of his arm and giving her a warning look.

_Oh no-no-no. This cannot be happening_. Just as Rodney opened his mouth to protest aloud that this could not possibly be happening to him, both the doctor and nurse looked up at the approach of another person. Rodney turned to look up as well, knowing in his heart who he was going to see and hoping he was very, very wrong. He was not.

John Sheppard stood in the doorway looking at him appraisingly. The hazel eyes were narrowed in suspicion. The usually insubordinate hair was lying slicked back and flat against his skull. The muscles in his jaw were tight; this looked like a man who didn't know how to smile. It was the face of a perfect stranger.

"Ohmygod." Rodney buried his head in his hands, still holding up the sheet by clamping his elbows into his sides. "I'm stuck in Carson's alternative universe."

****

The next few hours were a sort of surreal experience for Rodney. First, at his insistence, some clothes were procured, then he demanded they drag Elizabeth out of bed and up to her office where Rodney received another shock. Unlike the cool, refined expedition leader he respected and come to consider a friend, this Dr. Weir was frumpy and indecisive. He felt himself staring at her in disbelief; this frowsy-looking woman who wore her prematurely graying hair in a thick braid down her back and a uniform that was several sizes too large. He was unprepared too for the complete inability on her part to make any sort of rational decision—how had this woman come to be in charge of the Pegasus expedition? Meanwhile, John...no, _Major Sheppard_...stood in steely silence while Rodney explained all about how there had been an unexplained energy surge in _his_ universe, sending Carson Beckett to _this_ universe, but that he had recently returned and was able to tell them about his experiences there ...um, _here_. And Rodney himself was starting to get really agitated because he recalled how upset Carson had been on his return. Of course, this made him recall the plans that he and John had made to help Carson through that transitional period while Carson struggled to believe he was safe in his own universe again. Those plans sort of ran away with them and that's how Rodney discovered that not only did he love his best friend but that he was also loved in return.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute..." Rodney leapt up out his chair when the thought occurred to him. "We can't spend prolonged periods of time in an AU where our counterparts are still living without undergoing an entropic cascade failure effect. _Our_ Carson was able to stay here because _your_ Carson was dead..."

"So you're saying that our Dr. McKay might be dead after all?" Elizabeth glanced at Sheppard. There was an undefined air of tension in the room at her words.

Rodney ignored her and went on. "What happened today that put me in the morgue?" He pointed a finger at Sheppard.

"We were on a mission. You went inside this temple and the next thing we know, this beam of purple light came out from a pylon and struck you in the chest. You went down in a heap, dead. End of story." He spoke in a clipped, matter of fact way. _Damn, he's cold_.

"I don't think he died..." Rodney began to pace in a small circle and then snapped his fingers. "I think we changed places! I knew it! I _knew_ I hadn't gained weight!" Before anyone could react to that statement, Rodney whipped around to Sheppard again. "Hold on, hold on. Carson said my alternative self was a royal prick. How big of an asshole was he?"

"So big that no one was quite sure how you managed to squeeze through the Gate to travel to Atlantis in the first place." Sheppard's voice was cool.

"Congratulations, Major." Rodney was withering. "It's official. You're a smart-ass all across the multi-verse. Ohmygod." He snapped around to stalk in a circle again. "If that rat-bastard fucks up my universe, I will turn the space time continuum on its head to get him if I have to."

Elizabeth squeaked. Rodney looked up at her and thought he saw just a glimmer of something unreadable in Sheppard's expression as he did so.

"So now what?" The Major was stone cold again.

"So 'now what'? So now we wake up Radek and get to work on how to get me back to my own universe, thank you very much." Rodney flashed him a standard 'you moron' look. "If necessary we'll go back to that planet and take that temple gizmo apart, figure out how it works and reverse the procedure."

There was another disquieting exchange of looks between Elizabeth and Sheppard.

"Oh what, don't tell me Radek is dead too? Jesus, Carson didn't mention that. My god, isn't there anyone left alive? What is _wrong_ with you people?" He seized his hair in both hands briefly.

"Dr. Zelenka is very much alive." Sheppard continued to speak for Elizabeth.

"Thank god, at least _something_ has gone right in this universe for once." Rodney was relieved.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes again and turned his head slightly. "Are you sure you want Dr. Zelenka working with you on this matter?"

"Are you kidding? Next to me he's the most brilliant scientist in Atlantis. Don't tell him I said so, but seriously, any man that can complete my sentences for me...which is incredibly annoying, by the way...why _wouldn't_ I want him working with me on this?"

"Because...you hate each other's guts?" Sheppard seemed to be gauging Rodney's reaction. Rodney felt like he had taken a punch to the gut. He sat down with a thump in his chair again.

"I can't believe that he would be so unprofessional as to withhold assistance in this situation, no matter how he felt about me, the _other_ me, personally." His voice was very quiet.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. Both Rodney and Sheppard looked at her expectantly, which made her blush, but after some hesitation she finally said, "Why don't we start fresh on this in the morning? It's very late, we're all tired. It's too late to Gate back to the planet tonight anyway. We'll see things a little more clearly in the morning."

Rodney sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're probably right, Elizabeth. No, you know what? I know you are. Anyway, I certainly could use some rest. I've been mostly dead all day." He gave a little grin, inviting her to share the joke. She looked startled but gave a small smile back.

"I'll escort you to your quarters." Sheppard stood at the same time Rodney did. Rodney was torn. He truly wanted company right now and he was fascinated in a sick, 'look at that car accident' kind of way with this pod-person version of John but what he really wanted right now was _his_ John, folding him into his strong arms and telling him that everything was going to be all right. He would of course, mock him for the blatant lie, but it would feel good just the same.

"Ah, no thanks, it's really not necessary. I know my way."

Major 'No Sense of Humor' just gave him a glare that suggested Rodney _surely_ wasn't as stupid as he looked and Rodney was startled to be on the receiving end of such a look. "Security precaution," he said stiffly as he waved Rodney out of the room in front of him.

In the end, Rodney needed an escort after all, because the Major led him to quarters on a completely different level than where he had expected to go and he was startled to find his familiar belongings in an unfamiliar room. "Holy shit." He was awed at the luxuriousness of the quarters compared to the Spartan room he had in his Atlantis. "Would you look at the size of that mattress? Jeez, where the hell did that come from? Do you know how handy..." He turned to smile at John only it wasn't; it was Major Sheppard, who was staring at him with almost a sneer on his face.

_Fuck_. Rodney sat down with a sigh on the edge of the monstrous bed, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Are you all right?" No trace of warmth or affection in _that_ voice. Rodney looked up sharply and then looked away. Where the hell had Carson gotten the idea this version of John was _tame_? It was like thinking a pet tiger was tame because it had been obeying your commands while it was busy sizing up a way to devour you. _This is not John, this is not John. Don't let this hurt you_.

"I'm fine, fine." He flapped a hand in Sheppard's direction and then flopped backwards on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. He was surprised when Sheppard didn't immediately move to leave the room.

"So," he said slowly. "You're from an alternate universe, are you?"

The voice made Rodney's skin crawl. This was John's scary voice, the one that came out when something or someone important to John was being threatened. Rodney had never, ever heard this voice directed at _him_ and had to restrain a shudder. He lifted his head off the bed carefully to make eye contact and then inched his way up on his elbows for support. He suddenly felt horribly vulnerable lying there on the bed like that and wanted to be in a position to move rapidly if needed.

"And this other universe. This is a place where you call your fellow team members by their first names?"

"Because they're my friends." Rodney swallowed hard when he said it, but it was true, even if he had never seen it in quite that light before. If he ever, ever got back, he was going to make sure they knew how he felt about them. "Didn't you talk to Carson at all when he was here?"

"His interrogation was conducted by Col. Sumner before his death. When I spoke with Dr. Beckett later, he was...uncommunicative. "

The word 'interrogation' sent a shiver up Rodney's spine and then he was struck by an unrelated memory. He cocked his head slightly. "That reminds me—do you guys really have zats here?"

He could see Major Sheppard weighing the decision whether or not to confirm something he already knew to be true. Slowly he answered, "Yes."

Rodney felt his face split into a wide grin. " _We_ don't. John is _so_ gonna shit when I tell him."

Sheppard stiffened and then made to withdraw from the room. "I suggest you stay in your quarters until someone comes for you in the morning."

_Well, well_. Rodney watched him exit, back ramrod straight. That really unnerved the Major for some reason. He would have to keep that in mind. He was going to have to think long and hard about the best way to survive here, while getting the help he needed to get back home again.

****

The following morning, Rodney stepped out into the corridor practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He jumped when someone suddenly came up behind him and spoke.

"I thought I told you to stay in your quarters."

"Major!" Rodney smacked a dramatic hand over his chest and then winced at the residual soreness there. "Way to give a man a heart attack. What, you couldn't wait to finish the job from yesterday? I know you said to wait for someone to meet me but I was hungry. How could it hurt to make a quick run to the mess hall while I was waiting?"

Sheppard was giving him that weird unreadable stare again. "You never eat in the mess hall."

"I don't? Why not? It's where they serve the food, yes? Why would I not eat in the mess hall?" Rodney was practically sizzling all over. Food, food, he needed some food now. Who knew when the last time this body ate? He started walking towards the general direction of the dining area.

"You always have food sent to your quarters or the lab. You don't see the need to eat with the rest of us mere mortals." The sneer was back.

Rodney shot a glance over at the Major who was steadfastly ignoring him and looking ahead down the corridor. "Where I come from, I happen to enjoy the company of my friends when I eat. Can we go any faster, because hey, starving man here." He picked up the pace.

When they entered the mess hall, Rodney noticed a few startled glances and a whole lot of glares. Trying to ignore the creeping sensation up the back of his neck and knowing he was probably turning bright red, he loaded up his tray, conscious that the Major was right behind him. As he moved out of the line, he glanced around the room for a place to sit and then determinedly marched up to a table where Peter Grodin and Radek Zelenka were seated and asked, "Seat taken?" before sliding into a chair. He heard a stifled sound from the Major but noted that he also took a seat.

Zelenka looked at Rodney with such hostility that Rodney's heart almost stopped from the sheer animosity. "I see rumors of your death are greatly exaggerated."

"Yes." Rodney tried to look unconcerned, and concentrated on buttering his toast.

"Pity." He stood abruptly, obviously intent on moving to another table. Grodin made a small sigh, but shifted his tray into a position to be picked up as well.

Rodney put down the toast and glared at Zelenka. "Ouch, Radek. For crying out loud, you're killing me here. I'm not the person you think I am. Surely Elizabeth has told you all by now I'm from an alternative universe. You guys need to lighten up. What, you all had your collective senses of humor surgically removed as children? It's a sad, sad day when _I'm_ the one that has to point out how vicious and petty you're being."

Grodin and Zelenka exchanged glances, and then Zelenka carefully sat back down, seemingly unable to take his eyes off Rodney. Rodney turned to Sheppard who was watching them all, cradling a mug of pseudo coffee in his hands. "Aren't you eating anything? No wonder your ass is so skinny. How do you keep from passing out on missions? That is _so_ not fair." He turned back to the table as a whole, smiling inwardly at Peter's shocked expression. "Now me on the other hand, I need to eat frequently or I get hypoglycemic. Do you know what happens when you get hypoglycemic? First you get very, very cranky and then you start making stupid little mistakes and then you pass out..."

"Soooo." Ah, there it was; the famous Sheppard drawl. He _knew_ it was there somewhere. "You're saying that our Dr. McKay is in a permanent state of incipient hypoglycemia?"

Rodney fixed him with a mock-lethal glare. "You know, I always suspected _your_ sense of humor was like a malignant growth. No matter how many times it gets cut out, it just keeps on growing back."

"You're in a good mood this morning, for someone trapped in an AU."

Rodney smacked the table top suddenly, causing Grodin and Zelenka to jump. "Do you know what I found in my—his quarters this morning? _Coffee_." He leaned into the table, sharing a secret with the listeners. " _Real_ coffee. I haven't had real coffee in months. He must have been hoarding it. I've had four cups so far this morning." His face fell at the expressions of the other men. "Oh I say, I'm sorry. I got carried away. Of course I'll bring it, well _some_ anyway, down to the lab with me." He sighed, tucking away into his powdered scrambled eggs. "Coffee, coffee, coffee. Next best thing to sex. Say, maybe that's what's wrong with _your_ McKay."

Peter snorted into his cup, choked and set it down with a clatter, slopping some of the dark liquid on the tabletop. Radek sat with his mouth open in a little round shock of "oh". Sheppard's lips twitched ever so slightly and Rodney felt like he had just scored a goal. He felt his cheeks getting hot even as he grinned devilishly, taking a bite out of his toast.

"Are you saying..." Radek sputtered, "You can't possibly be..."

"Well, apparently not in _this_ universe," Rodney said darkly. "Why do you think I am in such a hurry to get home?"

Peter laughed out loud, triggering a chuckle in Zelenka and, Rodney noticed when he shot a sly glance in Sheppard's direction, that little smirk he both loved and hated to see on John's face. "Right." Rodney rubbed his hands together gleefully. "So let's finish breakfast and get to work."

****

"It's Major Sheppard's team, Dr. Weir." Grodin touched his earpiece and cocked his head at the incoming information. "They're coming in hot."

"Lower the shield." Elizabeth frowned and stepped over to the balcony railing to get a better view of what was going on. Dr. Zelenka, Sgt. Bates, Dr. McKay and Major Sheppard came charging through the Gate, weapons drawn, with the Major shouting "Close it, close it!" as they cleared the ring.

The wormhole collapsed and the event horizon folded in on itself. The sound of Dr. McKay's voice filled the Gateroom. "I cannot _believe_ they won't let us back in the temple!"

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Sheppard's voice was sharp with adrenaline and disbelief. He glanced back over his shoulder as if still expecting someone to follow them through the Gate.

Zelenka was red-faced and shouting. "I cannot _believe_ you would speak to me like that, you cretin!"

To the Major, Rodney said "You taught me" before turning to Zelenka. "Big news flash here, Radek. I speak to _everyone_ like that. I happen to be an asshole in _my_ universe too."

"I taught you?" Sheppard seemed stunned. "Why would I teach you to shoot?"

"So I wouldn't be a handicap to the team," Rodney snapped and turned back to Zelenka who was cursing in his native language and shaking a fist at Rodney. "Radek, for crying out loud, do you know the first thing Carson said to me when he got back to our universe?" He paused and then slipped into a perfect imitation of Dr. Beckett's brogue. "Oh Rodney, are you the brilliant, arrogant, asshole of a prick Rodney, or the brilliant, arrogant, asshole with a heart of gold Rodney?"

Elizabeth heard a snicker and realized that Peter had come to stand beside her at the rail.

"And do you know what _you_ said?" Rodney punched an index finger in the air repeatedly in the general direction of Zelenka's chest. "'A question I ask myself on a daily basis before entering the lab.'" Rodney's imitation of Radek was dead-on. "So you see, it's just me. That's the way I am. Deal with it."

" _Why_ are you such an arrogant prick?" Zelenka still glowered, but seemed to be calming down.

"Why would I ever give you a weapon?" Sheppard added.

"Because!" Rodney tipped his head back and yelled at the ceiling. "Because I'm socially mal-adept. You mean to say you haven't picked up on that by now? Oh yes, and by the way, hello, _brilliant_. I come by my arrogance honestly."

"I don't know, sir." Bates chimed in. "He's a pretty good shot. He shot that weapon right out of the Aerlon leader's hands."

"Okay, maybe now would not be the time to point out to you that I wasn't aiming at his hand," Rodney said over his shoulder to the Sergeant.

Major Sheppard began to laugh. It was not a reaction Rodney was expecting apparently because he whipped his head back around in disbelief and then Elizabeth saw a genuine, pleased grin spread over his features. All the sudden, the entire team was smiling and laughing and Major Sheppard was saying, "Well, _our_ Dr. McKay didn't come with an instruction manual. Thanks, McKay, for the operational details."

Zelenka removed his glasses and wiped them. "I guess we will have to go back to the drawing board now, as we cannot get answers directly from the temple."

The two scientists began to move off in the direction of the labs. _Or we could just keep this Rodney_. Elizabeth felt momentarily guilty at the thought as she watched them leave the area.

****

Sheppard didn't know what to make of the new and improved Rodney McKay. He was still an arrogant bastard, but Sheppard had to grudgingly admit, he _did_ have grounds for that arrogance. He had torn through the labs like a hurricane, finding half a dozen serious errors in working projects and complaining loudly all the while. But unlike the almost cruel man he had dealt with on rare occasions in the past, this McKay seemed to be more bark than bite. For starters, Sheppard had noticed that when faced with overt hostility, McKay would more often then not start a self-deprecatingly little riff on the magnitude of his character flaws, resulting in even the most stiff-lipped of co-workers trying hard not to smile. He also had an almost frenetic energy about him, which had Sheppard wonder on more than one occasion if he was abusing anything other than caffeine. He was short-tempered, but had this quirky sense of humor that made you want to laugh at something he said just when you were ready to pound him with a fist. He was obviously working hard to be amenable to his colleagues, something the 'real' McKay never bothered with. Sheppard could see this was an effort for him though, that it somehow did not come naturally. He could also see signs that things were beginning to fray for the astrophysicist, signs of tension in the set of his neck and shoulders, in the outbursts of real temper from time to time.

He hadn't believed his story at first. Coming on the heels of their AU visitor Carson, it seemed too pat, too convenient. That there was no obvious reason for a deception did not bother Sheppard at all, if the guy was faking it; the reason would become apparent eventually. But having observed McKay over the past several days, he was struck by how sometimes he knew things about people that he shouldn't have known and at the same time got some well-known details about people completely wrong. The telling factor for Sheppard however, was the utter shock on McKay's face when the two of them ran into Dr. Gall in the corridor on the way to the labs one day. Gall was unpleasantly rude without provocation, an occurrence that was starting to bug Sheppard just a little. No one seemed to give McKay a chance before they treated him with contempt. _Give the guy a break, he's trying, okay_? When Gall continued on down the hall, McKay watched his passage and said somewhat shakily, "I thought he was dead. He _is_ dead in my world." For the first time, Sheppard found himself believing him.

It was ironic that just at the point he was starting to believe in the guy, McKay's own faith in his ability to get himself back to his proper universe seemed to be dwindling. When he had checked in at the labs this morning, Sheppard found Radek alone at the workstation. Funny how he thought of the little Czech guy as 'Radek' now. Just a few days ago, it would have been unthinkable to address him as anything other than Dr. Zelenka. Radek had just shaken his head when asked where McKay was. It seemed that they had come to a dead end regarding the source of the energy readings that coincided with the arrival and departure of Carson Beckett from this reality. There were no such readings to correspond with McKay's arrival. And they were no nearer to an explanation for what had occurred in either crossover.

"I am worried about him." Radek had confided as Sheppard had prepared to leave the lab. "I do not think he sleeps. He pushes himself too hard, that one."

"Since when do you care, Radek?" It was easier to smile these days, ever since he had started thinking of the expedition team as colleagues and not some silly-ass civilians that needed constant supervision.

"He grows on you." Radek had shrugged. "Like mold."

When a quick search failed to turn up McKay in any of his 'new' usual haunts, Sheppard headed down to the man's quarters. He heard a resigned "enter" when he activated the door chime. Inside, he found McKay lying on the already made bed, fully clothed and staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his abdomen. He made no effort to get up on Sheppard's entrance to the room. Sheppard glanced around; on the table appeared to be a disassembled zat gun next to an open laptop.

"McKay." Sheppard was amused. "You wouldn't be trying to reverse engineer a zat, now would you?"

McKay sat up slowly, hands stretched out backwards behind him to brace him upright. "Well, you know how it is. Christmas will be here before you know it and some people are _so_ hard to shop for." Despite the light words, he sounded very dejected.

Sheppard felt bad for him all the sudden. "Rodney." He startled himself with the deliberate use of the scientist's first name but then had no idea where he intended to go with it. McKay's head snapped up at the sound of his name and then he jumped off the bed and came stalking over in Sheppard's direction.

"You know what? I can't have a serious discussion with you looking like that." McKay abruptly grabbed him by the arm and frog-marched him over to the bathroom door.

"McKay, what the hell...?" Sheppard tried to pull his arm back but McKay was stronger than he looked and he already had the momentum on his side.

"Get in there and wash that crap out of your hair. You look like Puck's evil twin. I want to talk to someone who looks familiar." McKay shoved him into the bathroom, releasing his arm.

"Now wait a minute, McKay..." Sheppard got 'the hand' thrown up in his face and McKay made a rapid, non-verbal negative clucking sound, much the way someone would scold a puppy. Giving in with bad grace and not sure why he _did_ give in, Sheppard complied with the request, taking the proffered bottle of shampoo and turning on the water in the sink. He 'thought' the door shut firmly behind him, wishing he could make it slam.

He came out of the bathroom having towel-dried his hair, leaving the towel around his shoulders to catch the remaining dampness. Before he could protest, McKay came over frowning and rapidly fluffed out his hair with one hand. Sheppard smacked his hand away and watched as McKay gave a martyred sigh and sat down at the table.

"You want to tell me what this is all about, McKay? Why I am humoring you in this, I have no idea."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but it looks much better this way." McKay's expression was somehow amused and rueful at the same time.

"I can't leave my hair like this." Sheppard pointed at the recalcitrant fringe that was starting to stand up as it dried. "No one will take me seriously."

McKay snorted and then struggled not to laugh. It was infectious and Sheppard found himself trying not to laugh as well. "Of _course_ they won't. It's part of your secret weapon. Everyone will be so distracted by the hair, they won't realize how lethal you really are until it's _way_ too late." He rested one elbow on the back of the chair seat. "Trust me on this one. Everyone will think you're so hot we'll need to install extra heat shields on the puddle jumpers."

"Excuse me, on the _what_?" Sheppard reached up and tried to slick the fringe back down. _Everyone would think he was hot_? He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Stop that." McKay scolded. "You know, the gateships."

Sheppard started to grin at McKay's nickname for the ships but was startled by the sudden look of loss on his face. Holding both ends of the towel around his neck, he came over to the table and took the other chair. "Okay. Spill it, McKay. What gives?"

McKay stared at him intently for a moment, with an unreadable expression that was starting to make him uncomfortable so he suddenly let go of the towel and began toying with the parts of the zat gun.

"You know, I have to face the possibility that I might not return to my own reality. That there might not _be_ a way for me to return."

"Yeah, about that." Sheppard shifted in his seat. "Dr. Heightmeyer has a theory, you know. She thinks that you're not really from another universe; that your subconscious is, I dunno, allowing you to play out another role."

"Oh please, you know the woman's having an affair with Prince Valium, right? Like we can take anything she says seriously. Look, I need you to just shut up a minute and listen."

And listen he did. He listened and watched as the man he knew by the name of Rodney McKay spoke of his universe, spoke of the Wraith, the expedition's successes and failures, the people they had befriended, the enemies that they had made. And as the man spoke, Sheppard could see these other people, outlined in the movements of McKay's gestures, in the stories that he told of their exploits, in the pain and heartache on his face, in the excited movements when he would suddenly leap to his feet and stalk about the room. He found himself jealous of this other Sheppard, the one who had friends named Carson, Teyla and Ford. There seemed to be more as well, something McKay was leaving out, but he couldn't pin it down.

He tried not to interrupt, but sometimes the story was too incredible and the words would slip out. "She went 10,000 years _back in time_?"

"Only because you didn't know how to fly the Delorean." The sentence came automatically, with a crooked smile, a joke shared with someone before. Someone else, not him.

When McKay finally wound down, he began asking Sheppard for _his_ stories. Only he did not have the discipline to keep from interrupting, criticizing Col. Sumner's decisions, pointing out the value in making alliances where Sumner had dismissed the culture as too primitive to help, bewailing Elizabeth's inability to stand up to the Colonel, lambasting his alternate self for his narrow-mindedness and selfishness that impacted on more than one outcome.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like." He was shaking his head, staring at Sheppard with commiseration. "We only had to deal with Sumner a short while before you...er, before he died. You're telling me that you were basically here as a gene only—not meant to be here in any military capacity. That your rank just happened to make you 2IC. I bet Sumner liked to point that out on a daily basis. And everyone knows that the rest of the command will take the CO's lead. Your life must have been a living hell."

Sheppard felt his face lock up, not wanting any part of the sympathy he sensed coming from this man. McKay seemed oblivious, continuing to speak almost to himself. "What a waste. You are one of the most brilliant, natural tactical geniuses I've ever seen. You think best outside the box and though unorthodox, you're a good leader. You make a better leader than you do a subordinate, that's for sure. And though your mouth can get us into trouble _almost_ as often as mine, a talent I'm sure you do not appreciate, more often then not our alliances were formed on the basis of your weird little innate charm. You have really good first contact skills. And you always try to do the right thing, even if the doing the right thing sucks for you personally. Now if we could just work on the stupidly self-sacrificing heroics..."

Sheppard stood up abruptly, snapping the towel off his shoulders and dropping it on the back of the chair. "You're confusing me with someone else. That's not who I am."

McKay looked up at him thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure about that. Look, one theory about alternate universes is that there is an infinite number of universes, some more similar in detail than others. Your universe has a lot of similarities to mine. Most of us have ended up in the Pegasus galaxy in both universes, despite having different background details. I'm guessing the elements of who we really are aren't all that fundamentally different; that our different experiences, decisions and reactions have made us who we are today. And I'm betting we can _choose_ the person we want to be." He stood up as well, leaning in over the table to make his point. "Look, a lot of the smaller details are different, but most of the big ones are the same. You guys have been lucky so far, the Wraith have not awakened en mass— _yet_. But I'm guessing that when they do figure out Atlantis is occupied once more, when they realize that we're all from another galaxy...that the Gate can give them access to that 'new' galaxy, it will just be a matter of time before they strike here in a large force."

" _Shit_ , McKay." It took his breath away.

"I know." McKay gave a big sigh and straightened his shoulders. Abruptly he headed for the door. "Come on, we've got work to do."

His mind was racing over all the things that McKay had told him so he didn't notice the odd looks and double-takes he was getting at first. It wasn't until he registered the warmth of the glances that he was receiving that he remembered McKay's weird insistence on changing the way he did his hair. He caught McKay giving him a sideways look and a smirk and then suddenly he reached out and made a patting motion at the top of Sheppard's head. "It's like it generates this strange energy field..." He made like his hand was being stopped by an invisible barrier.

"Stop that," Sheppard growled, smacking his hand away and then was oddly disappointed when he did. McKay's attention had been caught by someone else however, and he said, "Wait here," before calling out, "Emily! Emily Wilson!" and rapidly crossing the common area. Sheppard tried to figure out who he was calling; obviously someone he didn't know in the science community.

Sheppard followed his progress across the room as the other scientist turned stiffly at McKay's hail, standing with her arms folded across her chest defensively and with open hostility in her eyes. As he watched, McKay's hands flashed around her head like barn swallows, oblivious to how she flinched at first. Sheppard could see her frown, see her start to relax and then slowly nod. McKay looked around in a conspiratorial fashion and then nodded himself before heading back to where Sheppard was waiting.

"What was that all about?" Instead of an answer, he got the 'wait' hand again and McKay was off once more, this time cornering Peter Grodin and having a similar animated and slightly hush-hush conversation. Grodin looked bemused, but headed off with a smile.

"What?" McKay said on his return. "You're not the only one with a Machiavellian turn of mind." Sheppard could get no more from him on the subject, and followed quietly when McKay announced, "Elizabeth next. We need to give her the abridged version of what I told you."

He waited for McKay to speak when they entered Elizabeth's office but McKay just looked at him in expectant silence and he realized McKay assumed that he would be doing the talking to Elizabeth. He mentally steeled himself for the hand wringing and distress that was to come once he shared McKay's concerns with her. Suddenly he could hear McKay's voice in his head from earlier in the day. _Are you kidding? You call her the Lizzinator behind her back_...so he began to speak, choosing his words carefully.

Elizabeth Weir surprised him when he was done. She looked thoughtfully first at him and then at McKay. "So finding a fully charged ZPM should be our first priority. It always has been, of course, but now we must really concentrate on finding one." Her tone was only a little shaky. She lifted her chin. "Suggestions?"

"I've been thinking...the Athosians have really helped us out in the past, I mean in my universe at least. It would help you guys to have some sort of cultural attaché here in the Pegasus galaxy. If I _do_ manage to make my way back to my own reality, you will need someone else to provide you with information on the various worlds you can trade or make alliances with. Even if I don't make it back," he hesitated only for a second but Sheppard heard the hitch in his voice, "my information isn't entirely accurate, due to the differences in our universes."

"I believe his assessment of the potential threat of the Wraith _is_ , however," Sheppard added quietly.

"We haven't been a rousing success with the various cultures we've encountered so far." Elizabeth's voice was dry. "We'll have some serious fence-mending to do. However, why don't you put together a team, Major, and let's try to talk to the Athosians again."

****

When they ducked inside the entrance to the dwelling, Sheppard was unprepared for the sudden intake of breath and the shout McKay gave. "Teyla!" He whipped his head around towards Sheppard and punched him in the arm. "It's Teyla!"

Sheppard looked curiously at the stunning woman who was surveying them both with narrowed eyes. McKay was right; she _did_ look like a cross between a yoga-instructor and a trained assassin. She had that lithe way of moving that came from years of disciplined training of some sort, and from what McKay had told him, Sheppard _didn't_ think it was from ballet lessons.

McKay was babbling with excitement and pleasure. "This is terrific! Teyla, we thought you were dead! I mean to say, we heard you'd been culled by the Wraith and so we thought..."

The room become suddenly tense. Sheppard noted that McKay failed to recognize that fact until the woman called Teyla Emmagon interrupted him. "How do you know of me?" Her voice was a steel blade inside a velvet sheath. The men at her back fingered their traditional weapons.

"Your reputation as a wise and gracious leader precedes you," Sheppard interposed smoothly. When the lovely copper-haired woman turned her full attention towards him, he gave a little half-smile. Well, he _was_ telling the truth. She was still eyeing him with reserve when McKay went on.

"I bet Carson was told that the leader of the Athosians had been taken, so he naturally assumed...oh wow, Teyla, I'm so glad that you weren't culled, because I sure as hell can use someone with your diplomatic skills right now." He was rocking up on the balls of his feet, practically jumping out of his skin with happiness.

Everyone turned to stare at him. "The temple, Major! She can help us gain access to the temple again. I bet the Aerlons will listen to _her_."

"Slow down, McKay. Let's start from the beginning. Hi there." Sheppard gave a little nod to the Asthosians watching them warily. "I'm Major John Sheppard. This here is Dr. Rodney McKay. Don't mind him, he's a little excitable at times." Sheppard noted the woman catching the dirty look McKay shot him and there was an amused gleam in her eyes when she focused on him again. "We're from Atlantis..."

****

The city was abuzz with a weird sort of energy when they arrived back through the Gate. The news they brought back with them seemed to be absorbed into the general good mood within the city. All in all, a successful mission: Teyla had agreed to meet with Elizabeth the next day and relations with the Athosians looked promising. McKay was both pleased and exhausted; Sheppard was beginning to realize prolonged contact with people was a bit of a strain for the acerbic astrophysicist. Sheppard left him in the command center to make his way towards Elizabeth's office to brief her. He stepped around a tall, slim, elegant woman speaking with Grodin and had taken two steps beyond when he heard Elizabeth's voice stopping him. He turned and almost dropped his jaw in surprise. The elegant woman _was_ Elizabeth.

"Uh, hi there...Elizabeth." He stumbled over the unfamiliar use of her first name. "Done something different with your hair?"

It was more than just a flattering haircut and a change of color. Dark chestnut curls stopped just above her collar, making her look ten years younger than she had before. For once her uniform actually seemed to fit her. Who knew that Elizabeth had such a tight bod under all that oversized clothing? She suddenly looked every inch an expedition leader. She lifted her chin and looked at him with a smile and a slight challenge in her eyes. "I could ask you the same."

He shot a rueful glance upwards. "Some days I just can't do a _thing_ with it."

Grodin gave a little yelp of laughter quickly stifled and found an excuse to leave. Elizabeth smiled at Sheppard with bright eyes. "I hear the mission was a success?"

"The Athosians are good people and their leader is a thoughtful and intelligent person. You'll enjoy meeting her. I think this alliance will be beneficial for both of us. This Teyla Emmagon is a bit of a diplomat, according to McKay. She has agreed to speak to the Aerlons again on our behalf."

"Good. Do you think the Aerlons will grant him access to the temple, then?"

"If anyone can persuade the Aerlons to allow us back inside their temple again, it is probably Teyla. As for the rest..." he shrugged.

"For his sake, I hope this works." Elizabeth's voice softened as she glanced in McKay's direction and then she turned back to Sheppard and said briskly, "Very well, keep me posted."

Sheppard headed back towards McKay where he stood in conversation with Grodin. At his approach, Grodin threw back his head and laughed and then they both looked with appraisal at Elizabeth as she stood at the command console speaking to Radek. McKay clapped Grodin on the shoulder, who moved off with a smile and a nod at Sheppard.

"Hey." He turned to the scientist, who suddenly looked tired again. "Are you okay? You want to go grab some dinner?"

McKay made a scary expression that was obviously a feeble attempt at a smile. "No, you know what? I'm not all that hungry and I'm totally exhausted. I think I'll turn in early tonight. It's been a long day." He flapped a hand in Sheppard's direction as he moved off.

"Okay." Sheppard frowned. Refusing food was unlike McKay. "See you in the morning then." He made it a statement, not a question. McKay just nodded wearily without turning around.

Thirty minutes later he was questioning his own sanity as he carried a tray down the corridor to McKay's room. "Here, I brought food." He pushed his way unceremoniously into McKay's quarters when the door opened, setting the tray down on the table before turning to look at the man.

McKay was barefoot and dressed in a set of ratty old sweats. His hair was rumpled, as though he had been running his hands through it. "Why did you do that?" He said quietly, coming over to the table and staring down at the tray.

"Well, lord knows you're always drilling into us the signs of impending hypoglycemia. I thought your earlier refusal of dinner was an indication you were already too far gone and were starting to make stupid decisions." He felt his mouth quirk in a little smile.

McKay looked at him as though he had been pole-axed. Jeez, maybe the man really was hypoglycemic. "McKay," Sheppard warned. "Sit down before you fall down."

McKay sat down at the table and slowly pulled the tray over towards him. He lifted a fork and speared a chunk of food. "Mmmmn. Mystery meatloaf and almost-potatoes. My favorite." He dead-panned the words but a little moan of appreciation slipped out as he chewed the food. "Help yourself to some coffee, but only if you pour me a cup."

Admiring the makeshift power source McKay had cobbled together for the coffeemaker, Sheppard brought a single cup of coffee over to the table. He set the cup down in front of McKay and watched as he methodically polished away his dinner. Just for something to do, Sheppard began putting the zat back together. McKay eventually pushed away the empty plate with a sigh.

"It lives," Sheppard said mockingly.

"At least for another day." McKay agreed. "Thanks, you were right...I needed that." He sat back in his chair, almost closing his eyes.

"Elizabeth's Extreme Makeover. You arranged that, didn't you?"

McKay's crooked smile made an appearance. "Turned out well, didn't it? Emily Wilson was always bitching about her hair in _my_ universe, I figured she'd know someone who could do hair in this one. And I had Peter swap out all her uniforms while she was getting her hair done."

"Is that what the two of you were laughing about?"

McKay frowned and then his face lightened. "Oh that. No. We were just...oh well, never mind, you had to be there. It wasn't important." He began to look faintly embarrassed.

"McKay..."

"He was ragging on me about being so different from _your_ McKay. And I told him that's what sex, _great_ sex, with someone you love can do for you. Okay?"

"It's Elizabeth, isn't it?" Sheppard heard the flatness in his voice, uncertain as to why he felt disappointed in McKay.

"What's Elizabeth?" McKay seemed genuinely puzzled.

"She's the one. The person you're sleeping with. The reason you want to get back to your reality so badly."

McKay snorted. "Okay, not that I haven't thought about it once or twice. But if she ever started speaking to me in bed in that 'managing Rodney' voice...and oh lord, I can just picture her saying 'Rodney, _focus_ ' at an inopportune time..." he suddenly dissolved into helpless laughter. Sheppard didn't quite get it, but got enough of it to understand why McKay thought it was so funny and laughed with him.

"Okay, Teyla then." McKay was just starting to calm down when Sheppard made his next suggestion, more in play than in all seriousness.

McKay whooped. "Okay, Teyla is probably one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, but surely you've noticed she's got that whole La Femme Nikita thing going. I know if we went to enough alternate universes we'd find one in which Teyla was a killer-for-hire...the kind that would bless your soul before cutting your throat. I'm _scared_ of Teyla." He wiped the corner of one eye with the back of his hand, still chortling. "As for Elizabeth, it was Peter who was knocked silly by her appearance in the Gate room today. He just kept saying 'wow' over and over and I said, 'oooh, very articulate, Peter'." McKay shook his head. "I finally told him that if he thought Elizabeth was a 9.2 on the wow Richter scale, he should tell her. Life's too uncertain in the Pegasus galaxy. Eat dessert first. I strongly suspect he and Elizabeth have something going on in my universe."

"Which lead to your great sex comment." Sheppard got it now. "Peter and _Elizabeth_? Wow. Okay then, c'mon, give. Who is it _you're_ with?"

The amusement leached out of McKay's face, to be replaced with an awesome combination of both love and loss. "Idiot," he said softly. He gave that crooked little smile and it almost physically hurt Sheppard to see it.

They locked eyes for a long moment. _So that's what he was leaving out_. Sheppard found it hard to breathe and wondered what the hell McKay saw when he looked at him, because God knows he had no idea what kind of expression was running across his face just now. Then McKay folded himself up onto the table, face down on the surface as his hands reached up to cradle the back of his skull. Every line of his body radiated despair.

Sheppard felt like an intruder somehow and he got up to leave, but as he came abreast of McKay's chair, something made him turn and say, "Rodney."

Rodney twisted around in his seat to grab Sheppard by the waist in a fierce hug, fingers clutching at the back of his t-shirt, face pressed into his abdomen. Sheppard sucked in his breath sharply, and then found himself placing a gentle hand on the back of Rodney's head. Rodney mouthed 'John' into his shirt; he could feel the heat of his breath through the thin fabric. Hands sliding up his back, Rodney got slowly to his feet and pulled Sheppard in close, murmuring 'John' in the hollow of his neck, repeating the name like an incantation.

_Maybe if he says it often enough, 'John' will appear_. In that moment, Sheppard realized that he could _be_ that John...the John with the irrepressible sense of humor, the John that enjoyed the company of his friends and the respect of his peers. The John that was loved. All of that could be his. It was just a heartbeat away. He just had to reach out for it.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on Rodney's waist, more in support than any embrace. Softly but deliberately, he spoke. "McKay."

He felt Rodney's entire body stiffen. Part of him desperately wanted to prevent Rodney from pulling away, but that is exactly what Rodney did. Just as he knew he would.

Rodney flinched backwards as though stung, stumbled when he bumped up against the table and the quickly placed some distance between the two of them. "I'm so sorry. Please. I...I don't know what I was thinking. I _wasn't_ thinking. I'm really tired and it's just...you...well..." He trailed off, looking utterly miserable.

"It's okay. Really." Sheppard tried to be reassuring without crossing the line into comforting. "Look, I know this whole thing has been really hard for you. You think I don't know what it's like to be treated like shit every day?" He heard the bitterness twist his voice and abruptly changed his tactics. "I promise you, Rodney, we'll find a way to get you home. You have my word on that."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Rodney spoke sharply, then scrunched his eyes shut, made a small fist and began repeatedly rapping his forehead. He sighed, not making eye contact as he spoke again. "I'm sorry. I know what you meant. It's just there may not be anything anyone of us can do."

"Why don't I...just go?" Sheppard made an abortive movement with his hand between himself and Rodney that ended up pointing over his shoulder at the door.

Rodney turned away from him, face shadowed in the quiet light of the room. "Yes," he said softly. "I think that would be a good idea."

The door obligingly opened at the mental command and Sheppard escaped into the corridor, only to sag against the wall when the door shut behind him again. McKay was right. Doing the right thing _sucked_.

****

It took several more days before they were able to return to the Aerlon homeworld and investigate the temple again. Rodney had been obviously impatient and had to bite his tongue when Elizabeth pointed out serenely that this was exactly why they were allowing Teyla to handle the negotiations for the team's return. Sheppard had added, "That and the fact that you _shot_ their leader..." which had the whole briefing room smirking, Teyla included.

Elizabeth herself continue to blossom in her new-found confidence. The night before the scheduled return to Aerlon, she had requested Rodney's presence in her office. Somewhat diffidently at first, she thanked him for his influence within the city over the last few weeks and added though she hoped that his mission would be successful, she would be personally very sorry to see him go. He was horribly embarrassed by the whole scene—he scarcely knew what to say. _Gee, thanks, I'm glad you don't think I'm a major jerk, sorry about sticking you with the other guy_.

He'd gotten into an argument with Radek over his lack of plans on how to deal with the alien device this go round; he'd pointed out that it was difficult to formulate plans without objective data on a device he'd never actually seen and that he could not get that data without examining said device. Radek had accused him of a circular logic that was more in Sheppard's style than that of a scientist, which had really pissed Rodney off. Things might have gotten ugly then, only Radek laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "And what if this time the device does not send you back where you belong but kills, yes? Then where would you be?"

"Back in the morgue, obviously," he'd snapped half-heartedly. Radek had rolled his eyes, but both of them knew the other was each in some measure correct.

Of Sheppard he saw little. Whenever they met in public, the Major seemed pleased to see him. His relaxed banter with Rodney had the effect of making other people more relaxed with him as well. Rodney was struck by the realization that much of the initial tolerance his colleagues had developed for him in his own universe probably stemmed from John's early friendship with him. Watching with fresh eyes, Rodney could see the way people were starting to warm up to Sheppard as well, as a man no one had known when he had stood in the Colonel's shadow. Rodney had no real idea of what Col. Sumner had been like before his death in Rodney's universe, but according to the science teams, the man that Sheppard was replacing here bordered on a being a sadist. He understood a little better how distressing the displacement had been for Carson, and was deeply relieved that he had not entered this universe before the demise of its Colonel.

The few times he found himself in private company with Sheppard, the Major was friendly but reserved. Rodney was glad to see that Sheppard was not violently offended by the idea that his alternate universe self could lead a life so different from his own, but Rodney could not help but wonder how little it would have taken in his own universe for his relationship with John to be on similar footing. Intense circumstances, situations where they had been repeatedly placed in jeopardy together, relying heavily on each other for survival...was this the only basis for his relationship with John? It depressed him beyond belief. He half-hoped Sheppard would show up the evening before the mission to privately wish him luck, but he did not.

The four of them, Rodney, Sheppard, Radek and Bates met Teyla at the Gate on Aerlon. Of the Aerlons themselves, there was no sign. "In view of the...strained...relationship between your peoples, I thought it was perhaps best that I met you alone," Teyla explained. She went on to state further that the temple was considered a place of healing and meditation and that the Aerlons felt that Dr. McKay had not been in the right frame of mind to approach it the previous time the team from Atlantis had visited.

"Oh for...of all the superstitious mumbo-jumbo...I am so _not_ going to sit around here and contemplate my navel for an hour or two before entering the temple. Teyla, it's imperative that I..."

"C'mon, McKay." Sheppard was amused. "What harm can it do to sit in the shade for a while and have a cup of tea or something? Nobody's asking you to stay for Sunday school."

"How much preparation does it take to stand in front of a pylon and chant repeatedly 'there's no place like home'?" Rodney growled.

"Now see, you left out the part where you click your heels together three times first." Sheppard sighed and glanced at Teyla, who was looking confused. "Gee, thanks McKay, I guess I know what we'll be watching next movie night, you will join us for that, won't you?" He addressed the last portion of the statement to Teyla.

Teyla smiled with the expression of someone humoring a small child and then turned to Rodney in all seriousness. "Please, Dr. McKay. I think it would be best if you went over there," she pointed to a small grove of trees nearby, where a marble bench in a clearing could be seen, "and just...be quiet... for a little while."

He tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to stomp off in a huff. The grove was pleasantly serene. He sat on the bench and closed his eyes, listening to the birdsong, feeling the play of light and shadow on his face as the breeze moved the leaves overhead and the sun dappled the little clearing. The temple was a place of healing and meditation, eh? Well, he would never be able to enter the right frame of mind if it required meditation. He had never been able to successfully meditate. He'd tried it one year after reading that twenty minutes of meditation a day was supposed to dramatically improve one's health. To the best of his recollection, he'd not ever been successful in emptying his mind. His brain teemed with things he had done and things that needed doing and the very act of attempting to meditate had proven so frustrating that his blood pressure had gone up alarmingly.

He opened his eyes with a start when a shadow lay heavily across his face.

"Hey." Sheppard was standing looking down at him, cradling the ubiquitous P-90, sun at his back.

Rodney blinked. For a moment he could not recall where he was or what he was doing there. "Hey," he replied.

"We were beginning to think you'd fallen asleep over here."

"I think I did." Rodney stood up and yawned. Well, okay. He did feel calmer. "I guess it's now or never then."

"Radek thinks there's a good chance this thing will kill you." Sheppard stepped into his path, blocking him as Rodney turned towards the remaining party.

"I've already had this argument with Radek, Major. I'm not having it again with you." Rodney had to stop walking to avoid running into Sheppard, and he pulled a face, sighed, lifted his shoulders and dropped them dramatically.

Sheppard reached out with his left hand and placed it on Rodney's arm. "You don't have to do this you know. You could just stay here. You could do a lot of good here. Hell, you might enjoy having a little more notice to solve life-threatening situations before they occur." He let his hand fall back to his side after squeezing Rodney's forearm.

Rodney looked at him a long moment, and then over to the temple before looking back again. "John once told me there was a precise ratio for calculating the speed at which my brain functioned. That there was an inverse proportion between the seriousness of the situation and the inventiveness of the final solution. So you see, perhaps it's best that I'm not given copies of the test questions in advance." He felt the tightness of his smile. "This is something I have to try, Major."

"People will miss you."

"An occurrence that boggles the mind, believe me."

"I'll miss you."

Rodney looked at him; really looked at him then. He saw the narrowed expression around the hazel eyes, the tautness about the jaw. This man was a more subtle read than his John, he had learned somewhere along the way to be more guarded. Rodney recognized the defensive vulnerability in his face just the same and something in his own heart melted.

"I can't _believe_ I'm going to say this," Rodney muttered before speaking clearly to Sheppard. "I _have_ to go." He glanced up at Sheppard's face and then made an inarticulate noise of frustration as he did so. "Why did I ever think the leaving was easier than the being left?" He shook his head. "You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Yeah, I think maybe I do. Sounds like you get left behind alot. I'm thinking it's your turn this time." Sheppard turned and made an 'after you' gesture with his hand, sweeping it towards the temple. The two of them fell into step as they covered the short distance to where the others were waiting. Rodney started to speak again, but something in Sheppard's shuttered expression made him keep his thoughts to himself.

Just before they entered the temple, Sheppard's voice stopped him. "I just think you should know," he glanced down at his boots before flicking his eyes back up at Rodney. "Just in case, well, you aren't successful in returning home but you manage to not get yourself killed."

Rodney paused to look at him with concern. The others were close enough now that personal declarations of any sort (not that he _expected_ any, but still) might be awkward for Sheppard to explain later. "Yes?"

"I confiscated all the coffee from your quarters." And he smiled then, that wicked little smile that was indistinguishable from any Rodney might have seen on John's face in a similar situation.

"Asshole." Rodney grinned back. He gave Sheppard a short nod and mounted the temple stairs.

Inside the temple, the air was cool and hushed. Bates and Radek waited with Teyla a respectful distance from the pylon, which occupied the center of the room. Radek had set up a scanner and began hooking it into a laptop as they approached. The tall, cylindrical object was inscribed with a different form of writing on each of its four sides. Rodney circled it thoughtfully before asking Sheppard for the details from the last visitation.

Sheppard had handed the P-90 over to Bates when they had entered the sanctuary. He stood frowning with his hands on his hips while Rodney stalked around the pylon a second time. "I don't know exactly what you did to trigger the beam. You were standing over there, no _there_. And then all of the sudden, there was this beam of light..."

"Here?" Rodney stood tapping his mouth with the fingers of one hand, his elbow braced by his other arm as it lay folded across his chest. "Wait a minute." He snapped his fingers and began pointing an index finger rapidly at the pylon, leaning in for a closer look. "This here, this looks like the Ancient symbol for..."

"Hold up," Sheppard said sharply, "That's just what you said before..."

The top of the pylon opened and a thick beam of purple energy crackled out of it, making direct contact with Rodney's chest.

****

Rodney sat up with a gasping start, the light blanket sliding down his chest. Disoriented, it took him a second to process that he was in his own room on Atlantis. The room was dark and the sound of his breathing was ragged and loud to his ears. When a hand made unexpected contact with the small of his back, he jumped and made a sound that could only be described as "Gagh!"

There was a slight movement behind him, a shifting of weight and then he heard John's voice. "Hey. You okay?"

The lights flared on in the room. John cursed, clapped a hand over his eyes and the lights immediately died out again. They tried to come up a second time, only to flicker, strain and die once more. "Rodney! What the hell's wrong with you?" The lights gave up and stayed off.

Rodney responded by turning around and throwing himself on John, plastering him with a desperate kiss. John had just gotten past startled and was becoming interested in the proceedings when Rodney broke off to babble at him.

"I was in Carson's AU. Everyone hated me. Are you sure I'm back in the right universe? There was this ancient pylon, well really more old than Ancient, if you know what I mean, although there was something written in Ancient on it and..."

John stopped his mouth with another kiss, leaning up into him to do so. Rodney could feel those lips curling into a smile beneath his own and then he was being pulled down alongside in a warm embrace. He half-turned into John's side, his head on John's shoulder.

"It was just a bad dream. I _told_ you not to have another helping of Halling's chili so close to bedtime.

"It was a dream?" Rodney spoke in a daze, heart still pounding but starting to slow down now. John began to trace small circles on his back, hand moving idly. "It seemed so real." He began to relax under the soothing movement of John's hands, his voice quieter. "I thought I had switched places with my AU self. You were there, but you weren't _you_. Everything was all wrong. I had been a real jerk, well not me, the _other_ me, and people would barely speak to me. And I just wanted so badly to come home."

"Dream," John murmured. "Go back to sleep."

Rodney was silent for a scant five seconds and then he spoke again. "If I had switched places with my AU self and he was a royal bastard, what would you have done?"

"Hmmn? Well, let me see." The sound of John's drawl sent a ripple of contentment through Rodney and he gave a deep sigh, moving closer into John's arms as he spoke. "I would have pointed out to him all the things that made me fall for you." He paused, voice dropping into a husky growl. "And then I would have fucked him through the mattress."

"Lucky bastard." Rodney smiled and sighed again. John's hands were beginning to move languidly across his back and chest. It was his favorite way to be with John, the almost sleepy approach to contact, that gradually simmered and built into passion. It was worth having a nightmare if it meant waking up John in the middle of the night like this. He made an involuntary noise of appreciation when John palmed his awakening cock and began administering slow, lazy pulls. He shifted closer, hooking a calf behind John's long legs, pulling himself into John's groin and feeling his own developing interest in the movement.

"Hey," he spoke as the thought occurred to him. "Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"I can't believe this. You want to know if cheating on you _with_ you is really cheating or not?" John chuckled into his hair, the contact and vibration incredibly erotic to Rodney. "You know," John stroked the line of his jaw, "you are the _only_ person in the universe I could possibly be having this conversation with in the middle of the night."

"Well, I'm just saying...it might not have been for real this time, but you know it _could_ come up...alternate universes, alien possession of our bodies, meeting ourselves from another timeline...we might want to establish some ground rules."

"Uh-huh." John had returned to his sensuous exploration of Rodney's body again. "So Rodney. This wouldn't have anything to do with _your_ behavior in this alternate universe, now would it?"

"It was a dream! You can't control what you do in a dream—your subconscious mind takes over!"

Rodney found himself suddenly pinned, John no longer in sleepy mode, but wide awake and insinuating himself between Rodney's thighs, his hands trapping Rodney's above his head. "I say we declare a moratorium on calling anything we do with an alternative version of ourselves 'cheating'."

"Oh really, and why is that?" Rodney heard his breathing grow harsh and closed his eyes when John began rocking against him.

"I find you irresistible in any version."

****

Rodney McKay woke up in a cold, dark room, a thin sheet covering his face and body as he lay on a hard table. _Déjà vu all over again_. At least this time, the whiny alien personality was no longer there. _Christ, what a loser_.

He sat up stiffly, feeling the residual pain in his breastbone from the pylon blast and wondering why it seemed to hurt more this time. Probably because he hadn't completely healed from the last time he died, ha,ha. You'd think having prior experience with this sort of thing, the medical staff would not have been so quick to stick him in the deep freeze again. Yup. Naked. Yup, there's the toe tag. No gurney this time though. Still an empty, cold room.

He remained seated on the edge of the table a few moments, unaccountably dizzy. And cold, he was really cold this time. He shifted his foot in an attempt to pull it up to remove the toe tag, but it really didn't seem worth the effort just yet. Shivering, he tried tucking the sheet around him a little tighter. Oh he wasn't _that_ heavy. That AU version of himself was probably making that up.

He thought briefly about the personality that had occupied his consciousness these past few weeks. What a joy _that_ had been, waking to realize he was a prisoner in his own body while the Pollyanna version of himself had been busy making nice with the natives. Okay, so maybe he did uncover a few potentially disastrous problems in the lab. Could anyone blame him if he, himself had been a little lax on the job? Stranded in the Pegasus galaxy, surrounded by incompetent idiots who detested him, resented his intellect really, basic comforts and needed staples diminishing daily, not even getting _paid_ when you really thought about it...

Only the last few weeks hadn't been so bad. Once he had gotten over the initial impotent fury at not being able to take back control over his own body, he had somehow become involved in the story he watched playing out around him from the vantage point of his own eyes. It had been a little like discovering a favorite television show or novel, and being unable to stop watching or put it down. Damn but the transformation in Elizabeth had been amazing...and a desperately needed one at that, for the good of the whole expedition. And working with Radek...Zelenka rather, had been extraordinarily satisfying. It had been refreshing to bounce ideas off someone who could think almost as fast as he could. Grodin's dry humor...how come he'd never noticed that before? And as for Sheppard...

He pushed his thoughts away from the Major, only to suddenly and vividly recall the way Sheppard smelled as he had pressed lips to his neck, the warmth of his body when embraced through that thin t-shirt... _Okay, so_ **not** _going there_! That was just some residual weirdness leftover from being possessed by his _gay_ AU personality. Jeez, no wonder he was so soft. It was amazing that he didn't just go ahead and redecorate Atlantis while he was here.

He shivered, remembering Rodney's memories as he had described them to Sheppard. Okay, no matter how pissed off he was at the unauthorized use of his body for the last two weeks, he couldn't really justify calling that other Rodney soft. Not after 'remembering' walking into that energy cloud in order to save the city, the time that Ford _died_ here. Not after using his brains and fast tongue to save Elizabeth from Kolya, despite torture at the hands of the Genii commander. Not after loading a 9 mil with trembling hands to empty it into the chest of the oncoming Wraith. Crap, had he really done that? He knew they were not his memories, but they seemed so real, they felt like his own.

His body suddenly remembered other things, the feel of Sheppard's (no, _John's_ ) bare skin next to his own, the digging in of fingers into muscle, the heady sensation of John's cock pushing its way into his ass...

Abruptly, he pulled his foot up onto the table and viscously removed the toe tag. Getting a hard on while dressed only in a sheet because of someone else's memories was...was... _pathetic_. He tossed aside the tag without looking at it and jumped off the table with a wince. No point in going to the infirmary to look for his clothes. He would just go straight to his quarters and then...

_Then what_? Back to the life he had been living before? He somehow doubted he could do that. It had been barely tolerable then, but now, knowing now that things didn't necessarily have to be that way, he was likely to be haunted by all the differences. He wondered if there was a possibility that the groundwork the other Rodney had laid in terms of his co-workers would hold over. Would they remember the man they had come to know and like over the last few weeks or simply go back to treating him with cold distaste? _You_ **could** _just pretend the transfer didn't work_.

For a second he was aghast at the thought. Talk about the devil on your shoulder whispering suggestions. But it would be so easy to do. Rodney had pretty much told John (no, _Sheppard_!) everything of any importance. And he still had Rodney's memories—some of which he had _not_ shared with anyone. He could do this. He could fake this. It was no different from manipulating data to support the hypothesis you wanted. As soon as he thought this, his mind gasped in horror at the idea. Oh great, along with the memories of the other Rodney, he had inherited a scientific _conscience_ as well. _Isn't that just ducky_?

Deciding that he couldn't ponder meaning of life issues while standing in a refrigerated room dressed only in a shroud, he opted for heading back to his quarters and praying no one would see him until he got some clothes on. As before, it was sometime in the evening, the lights were dim and the hallways empty. McKay was shuffling along at a good clip and just one level below his quarters when he barreled around a corner and almost into Zelenka.

"Ooops, sorry Radek," he said without thinking, concentrating on keeping the sheet pulled up and covering all important areas.

"Well, I see that celebration of your demise is premature." Zelenka pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glared at McKay. If looks could kill, there would not be any need for finding replacement drones, they could just install Radek directly into the Chair.

"Well, yes," McKay said slowly, not certain where all the animosity was coming from. "Again," he added.

Zelenka frowned a split second and then sneered. "Pity, I guess this means back to cowering in the streets for the peasants once more."

"Hey, just call me Dr. Robespierre." Rodney tried to look dignified, but it was really hard when dressed in a sheet. "So what happened this time?"

"What do you mean, this time?" Zelenka was starting to look confused.

"At the temple today. Aerlon homeworld. You were there. What happened this time? Did you measure any unusual energy readings?" McKay could feel his patience waning but decided the other Rodney would have persisted until he had at least gotten some useful information.

"I was not there. I do not know what you are talking about." Zelenka was now looking concerned.

" _Sure_ you were, Radek. You, me, Bates, the Major and Teyla." McKay gave him a modified version of the 'you moron' look.

"Are you sure you are feeling all right, Dr. McKay? And who is this 'Teyla'?" A sudden, sickening, sinking feeling hit McKay and he reeled backwards, reaching for the wall. Zelenka put a hand out at arm's length to steady him.

"Radek." McKay barely registered the little frown Zelenka seemed to give whenever McKay called him by name. "Is this the first or the _second_ time we've visited the temple on Aerlon?"

"The first. Since it ended in disaster, I cannot imagine we would be going back." He released McKay when he straightened himself. "Are you sure you shouldn't be in the infirmary right now?"

"Shit!" McKay briefly lifted a hand to his forehead and then said, "I've got to go talk to the Major."

"Well, you'll find him in the infirmary as well."

"What? What happened? Is he all right?" If he had not been busy holding up his sheet, he would have grabbed Zelenka by the shoulders.

"He took some of the energy blast when he shouldered you out of the beam. You were declared dead after the rest of the team got you through the Gate. It was touch and go for the Major, but they were able to revive him."

"Shit!" McKay said again, vehemently. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"That he was saving your _life_ , perhaps? Though why, I have no idea..." Zelenka's voice was dry.

"Well, it's not worth risking _his_ life over!" McKay blazed away. He knew that he was right. Maybe the other Rodney was worth the risk, but not him.

"I thought you were the one who was always saying that is what the military is here for, to give their lives in order to protect us, the vital part of the expedition." Zelenka was sardonic, a hint of a quote in his words.

"Argh!" McKay groaned in frustration. "I _am_ a huge asshole. It's a wonder some Marine hasn't emptied a P-90 into me off-world somewhere."

"You seldom go off-world." Zelenka was matter of fact.

"Well, it was nice having this illuminating little chat, Radek." McKay began walking backwards down the corridor in the direction of his quarters. "I feel soooo much better now. Sorry, I can't stay and continue this scintillating discussion, but I'm late for a toga party."

Zelenka's mouth twitched in an effort not to smile.

****

He stood in the shower with one hand on the wall above his head, allowing the nearly scalding water to cascade over his neck and shoulders without moving. _What a crappy, crappy day_. Another mission gone bad, another death. He was surprised too, at how much this particular death bothered him. He'd always figured McKay for the sort of bastard that was too mean, too selfish to get himself killed. It wasn't like he'd miss the guy personally; hell, he couldn't stand the guy. But he'd been a valuable resource they couldn't afford to lose. And he was getting tired of all the deaths.

That he'd come close to losing his own life today was immaterial to him. He knew this fucking galaxy had his number; it was only a matter of time. Still, it hadn't proved to be his time today. He took his hand off the shower wall and briefly saluted the ceiling with his middle finger. _Take that, Pegasus galaxy_. He held his face in his hands for a moment before slicking his hair back and turning his face up into the stream. The one redeeming feature of this place was the seemingly never-ending supply of hot water. Of course, there was almost always some scientist bitching about the unnecessary waste of energy in taking long showers. But that scientist wouldn't be Dr. Rodney McKay. Not any more.

He half turned in the spray and rested his head against his forearm along the tiled wall. One day someone would be saying the same about him. But hell, it wasn't like he'd had any choice here. O'Neill had made it pretty clear; coming to Atlantis with this expedition was 'voluntary' in name only. He had the rare gene. They needed him here more than they had on Earth. No one needed him on Earth. He was just sick and tired of the way his whole life was being funneled down in one direction, a direction he had no choice but to follow. Like some damned steer in a cattle chute, being forced into the slaughter house. He was getting tired of hanging on to this fucking existence with his fingernails. One day he was going to just let go.

He knew in part that his current state of mind was just in reaction to the day's events. In part. He stood in the shower until it became apparent that there was no further relief to be obtained in the hot water and reluctantly he shut off the spray. He toweled himself and his hair reasonably dry and headed into the main room of his quarters, dropping the towel behind him on the floor as he left the bathroom. He was so tired, he considered just falling into bed as he was, but the room was chilly. He'd opted for sweats and had just pulled up a soft pair of dark blue sweatpants over narrow hips when the door chime sounded.

_Fuck. Now what_? He gave a hitch to the sliding pants, tightened the drawstring and 'thought' the door open, even as he reached for the sweatshirt out of the open drawer. Never in a million years did he expect to see Rodney McKay come barreling through the door into his room.

He must have stood there with his mouth open in surprise. Oddly enough, once completely into the room and the door shut behind him, McKay stood with his mouth open as well, before abruptly snapping it closed and then opening it again to yell at him. "What the fuck where you _thinking_? No wait a minute, of _course_ , you _weren't_ thinking!"

_Holy shit_. McKay wasn't dead after all. Not only was he very much alive, but he was very pissed too.

"Hang on there, Dr. McKay." Sheppard shut the open drawer and turned to face the irate astrophysicist. "It's not my fault if someone declared you dead prematurely. You looked pretty damn dead to me but it was the docs that checked you out."

McKay pulled a face. "I'm not talking about _that_. Unless you have a medical degree that no one knows about, it is certainly not your fault someone falsely identified me as a corpse. I'm talking about that asinine shit you pulled with trying to push me out of the energy beam. Didn't they teach you any better in Stupid Heroics 101? _Hello_? Use something non-conductive to pull someone out of an energy beam, for chrissakes. Otherwise you get zapped by it too."

"There wasn't time to find something non-conductive to grab you with. You looked like your brains were frying and I'm sorry, but they _are_ your only redeeming feature." Sheppard snapped. "Besides, if they taught that in 'Stupid Heroics', wouldn't they have to change the course name?"

Inexplicably, the man grinned. His eyes flicked up and down Sheppard where he stood and his expression flared with some undefined emotion and then sobered. "Much as I enjoy playing verbal hardball with you, Major, and believe me, it's hard to find anyone who can hit back with any decent force, I didn't come here just to yell at you."

"Makes a nice change from everyone else then." Sheppard spoke gruffly before indicating a chair. He noted how carefully the scientist seated himself. He'd be willing to bet the guy was every bit as sore as he himself was, maybe even more so.

McKay looked up at him and suddenly seemed at a loss for words. Finally, after hemming a bit, he said, "Did you experience anything, well, _odd_ , when you were struck by the beam?"

"You mean other than the dying part?" Sheppard said dryly. He moved over to the end of the bed and sat down, weight primarily on his right hip with his leg folded slightly out in front of him and the other foot resting on the floor. It was force of habit mostly, a position that would let him rise to his feet quickly if needed.

"Yes, other than that. Thank you for saving my brains, by the way. After I left the morgue and got dressed, I went to the infirmary first to look for you, but you had already been released."

"Shouldn't _you_ be in the infirmary?"

"What? I was dead and now I am alive. Show me an infirmary that can top that." The guy had a point. "Besides, dying. Did you experience any...well sort of memories? Illusions? Dreams?"

"Noooo. What are you trying to tell me here, McKay?"

McKay looked surprisingly unhappy. He gave a big sigh, and leaned over, elbows resting on his knees as he studied his hands. "I think," he began, only to stop. "I think," he started again, "that the pylon is some sort of teaching device. Hear me out," he sat up and threw up a hand, despite the fact that Sheppard had not moved or interrupted. "I know this all sounds really weird. How long was I 'dead' today?"

"Since this afternoon. It's about 2300 now."

"And you?" McKay's eyes were intense on him; it made him slightly uncomfortable until he recalled that this was the sort of focus McKay brought to most things.

"A minute or two tops. I responded to CPR before they got us back to the Gate."

"And you got nothing. No messages, no memories, nothing?"

Sheppard shrugged a negative. "Nothing that I'm aware of at any rate."

McKay sighed again. He made a little noise of frustration. "It's like I experienced an entire two weeks in the span of a few hours. And in that two weeks, I got a glimpse into a whole other life, a whole separate existence." His hands boxed a small imaginary sphere, like a compressed element of time.

He looked up and met Sheppard's eyes. "Oh stop looking at me like I've totally lost my mind. I'm telling you that whatever happened to me when I was trapped in that beam, it felt very, very real. When I woke up in the morgue today, I thought two weeks had passed, two weeks in which I got to see how things might have been if I had made different choices, had different experiences, had been a different person than I am today. And you know what? I didn't _want_ to come back to this life." He slumped over his elbows again, looking at his hands once more.

"O-kaaay," Sheppard said carefully. "You know, maybe you should consider having a little talk with Dr. Heightmeyer..."

McKay snorted. "You mean Dr. 'Valley of the Dolls'? No thanks. Hell, I'm regretting I said anything to _you_. Just forget it, okay? Chalk it up to a near death experience and let's leave it at that." He sat up and gave a crooked little smile, eyes burning with some emotion that Sheppard could not pretend to understand. Something inside of him twisted with sympathy and he had the oddest sensation of déjà vu.

He eased himself off the bed in a single, fluid motion and went over to the narrow closet. Reaching up to the shelf within, he pulled down a bottle of Jack Daniels, a scant third remaining. Depositing it in front of McKay, he said, "Go on. Help yourself. Sorry, no glasses."

McKay looked startled and picked up the bottle to study the amber liquid within. "You've been pacing yourself," he said with a rueful grin. "Seems to me I'd have found reason for finishing this off in the first few weeks we got here." He set the bottle down again. "I don't want to...I mean it's a generous offer and all, but once it's gone, who knows when we'll get any more like it."

"I wouldn't have brought it out if it was a problem. You look like you need it more than me at the moment. Go on." He noted with amusement that after another moment of hesitation, McKay used the bottom of his shirt to wipe at the mouth of the bottle before taking a swig. He closed his eyes as he swallowed and Sheppard could imagine the fiery sensation of the alcohol burning a path down McKay's throat. McKay opened his eyes again, and looking up at Sheppard with his head slightly cocked, he offered the bottle. Sheppard took it, gave the liquid a deep pull as he tipped the bottle up and then set it down on the table. He resumed his seat on the bed.

"Now what?" Sheppard asked quietly.

"Now what? Now I try to figure out which memories are really real and which ones we might benefit from and which ones to totally ignore without losing my sanity." He leaned back in the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Give me an example."

"Well, for starters—did we or did we not have a Carson from an AU visit us recently?"

"Yes." Sheppard felt his expression become mask-like. He deeply regretted standing by and letting Sumner badger the man practically into tears, but he had been powerless to stop it. When he had tried to encourage the doctor to eat a little something at one point, Sumner had congratulated him on finally perfecting the "Good Cop/Bad Cop" routine, making it clear that Sheppard would have to play that role now or suffer the consequences. Though the manner of his death was horrific, and god knows, Sheppard hadn't wanted to take over as acting military CO, he was not sorry that Sumner was dead.

"So..." McKay was frowning. "Is Dr. Jackson dead or not dead?"

Sheppard shrugged. "You mean _today_? Right at this very minute? Who knows?"

"Why did Carson think..." McKay began but Sheppard interrupted.

"Sumner told Beckett a lot of things that weren't true just to mess with his head." The words came out sharper than intended. McKay just raised an eyebrow, picked up the bottle and handed it across the open space to Sheppard. He accepted and took another mouthful before handing it back. McKay helped himself as well, no bottle wiping this time. He held the bottle in his hands, rolling it back and forth.

"Sooo," he began again, pointing at Sheppard's head with the bottle. "Did your bout with the energy beam result in that?"

Sheppard put a quick hand up to his head, where he found his hair sticking up wildly in all directions. "Funny. That's what it looks like all by itself."

"You should leave it like that." McKay's crooked smile seemed a little more relaxed. "Distracts from your ears."

Sheppard reflexively put a hand up to his ear before hastily withdrawing it. "What about my ears?" He growled.

"What, you mean no one has ever told you that you look like a demented satyr? I'm telling you, with the hair, no one will ever notice the ears."

_You look like Puck's evil twin_. The words rang in his head. He tried to remember where he had heard them before but could not. He stood up abruptly with a shiver and went over to the drawers, pulling out the forgotten sweatshirt and sliding it over his head.

McKay set down the bottle and stood up himself. "I need to push off. Thanks for the drink...and listening to me. Remind me to have a little talk with you in the morning about the Wraith."

"What? If you have something to say, say it now. Don't be a tease, McKay." He didn't understand where the bantering words were coming from, but they felt right somehow.

"Fine, don't blame me if you never get another decent night's sleep again."

"Oh like I'm sleeping so well now. Sleep is over-rated anyway. What about the Wraith?"

"This...teaching device...has me thinking that the Wraith are a much bigger threat than we've previously considered. That like sea urchins, they expand to the available food supply. But unlike urchins, when the food supply is diminished, they don't die off, they go into hibernation. We've not yet encountered a world here that has not been affected by the Wraith. If they ever realized that Atlantis held the potential access to a whole new galaxy of untapped resources..."

"Fuck." Sheppard stalked over to the table and took another drink. He motioned the bottle towards McKay, who shook his head. Capping the bottle, Sheppard replaced it in the closet again. He turned back to face McKay. "What else has this 'teaching device' imparted to you?"

"That there are five or six serious problems I need to address in the labs tomorrow morning, if not tonight. That we really should go back and try to make contacts with some of the people that Sumner wrote off as worthless. That the Wraith really like hiding homing devices in everything, and I mean _everything_. That I should share my coffee supplies..." he gave a martyred sigh on that one. "That you should always wear your hair like that." He was moving towards the door, cheeks slightly flushed, blue eyes narrow with mischief and a hint of some sort of secret.

Sheppard followed him to the door. "Are you _sure_ you shouldn't check back in with Nash in the infirmary? You really aren't acting like yourself, McKay."

McKay stopped so unexpectedly that Sheppard almost ran into him and put a hand out to his arm to avoid collision. The heat and connection between them was almost electric. Sheppard held his breath for a moment as McKay glanced back over his shoulder, a sly expression on his face. "With any luck, I never will again." He turned to face Sheppard, who had released his arm. " _I_ choose," he said, leaning in for emphasis.

Sheppard thought for a brief moment that McKay was somehow saying that he had chosen _him_. "You choose...what?" He said somewhat hoarsely.

"I choose which life I want to live. I won't go back to the way things were before. I know it won't be easy, and I'll probably have days where I can't help but revert to type, but I choose to be different. I want the life I saw in that energy beam. The laughter, the friendships, the sacrifices, even the losses but most importantly, the love."

_Sonuvabitch_. McKay was standing there like Scrooge in the morning when he figured out he hadn't missed Christmas after all. He reached out and gave Sheppard a brief squeeze on his shoulder before exiting the room. Sheppard leaned out of the doorway and watched his passage down the hall until he rounded a corner. Pulling back into his room, he let the door shut. _Well, I'll be damned_.

He felt a little odd from the rush of ill-defined emotion he suddenly experienced, if not from the whiskey. He sat down on his bed thoughtfully. Perhaps he would have to spend a little time down in the labs to see how this all played out. Because if McKay had choices, then maybe he did as well.

~fin~

  
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